Awfully Good
by Aoitori
Summary: Aka: A Ride Home with Eliot. --A fluffy episode-tag to Season 2 Episode 8. Parker once again gets a ride home with Eliot. Touching moments and hilarity ensue. /no pairings unless you squint/ Please read, review, and enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage, or any of the characters, places, or events contained therein. Which, frankly, is a very good thing.

Note: This is a quick, fluffy (and, as usual, pairing-less) episode tag to season 2 episode 8: The Ice Man Job. While there are no glaringly bad spoilers, you pretty much won't understand it unless you've seen the episode. So yes—now you've been warned. Oh, and, for the purpose of the story, Eliot lives in the apartment next to Nate's. I'm pretty sure this hasn't been positively established in the show, but it seems likely…ish. Also, I'm assuming that the bar where the characters in question are hanging out at the end of the episode is the one in Nate and Eliot's building. I say 'assuming' because I'm reeeeeeeally bad at recognizing interiors, especially on film, so I haven't the foggiest idea. If I'm obviously wrong, feel free to tell me, but please attempt to suspend disbelief as you read. Well then, please read, review, and enjoy! (bows) Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!

* * *

Awfully Good

(aka: A ride home with Eliot)

The three of them ended up leaving the bar an hour or two later. Funny how one person who had nothing to say, one who didn't know how to say it, and one who had nobody to listen could somehow manage to while away long hours in easy, even enjoyable, conversation.

The seating arrangement had changed a bit, though, as the night had progressed. After Hardison, who was in an understandably good mood having survived his con-gone-wrong, had endangered his life again with his "hug it out" moment, Eliot had decided to take preemptive measures. He had gotten up, moved his stool, then hoisted Parker's stool (the bemused thief still perched on top) and placed it in the middle position, safely between him and the annoyingly grateful hacker. Curiously, while the other two had given the hitter expressive glares, neither of them had moved to object. And, of course, it hadn't been long before Hardison had found an excuse to "hug it out" with Parker too.

When it was finally decided that beds (or possibly mmorpgs, vegetable gardens, and rooftops) were calling, the trio got up and headed for the exit.

Hardison decided to be the gentleman and held the door for the others.

He must have said something to Parker because she suddenly and very willfully exclaimed, "I'll get a ride home with Eliot!" and grabbed the hitter's upper arm in a way that suggested she might be ready to hide behind him at a moment's notice.

"Parker," Eliot growled, "possibly you're not rememberin'…" he pointed forcefully upward—at his apartment next to Nate's, "I ain't ridin' anywhere."

Parker just frowned, the expression giving adequate voice to her situation, and pointed to the parking lot.

Eliot's next complaint died on his lips as he saw what she was staring at.

Hardison's flashy, red Ferrari was sparkling garishly in a nearby spot.

"Oh," said Eliot, deflating a bit as he shrugged his consent and started in the direction of his truck, "Can't argue with that."

For a second, Hardison just stared in disbelief. "The heck, man!?" the hacker complained at the retreating pair. To his credit, he _had_ at least had the good sense to shed the bling hours ago. "This is a beautiful piece of machinery!" he gestured to his prized vehicle. "There's somethin' _wrong_ with you!" He called after them, "BOTH a' you!" He let out a sigh of defeat as he came up along side the car, giving it a quick little, "Its ok baby." But then recent memory kicked in and he spun around to make sure there wasn't another unmarked van pulling up behind him. Mercifully, he found he was in the clear, so he quickly gathered the remnants of his dignity, slid into the car, and was on his way.

Over in the truck Eliot waited 'till Hardison had already driven off before starting the engine. He was quietly kicking himself again for letting the hacker get snatched during the job. Not that he had any intention of letting Parker in on his own private world of guilt.

He glanced over and saw her watching him with frighteningly knowing eyes. _Then again…_sometimes, and almost always out of nowhere, the thief seemed to comprehend a great deal more about her teammates than she normally let on.

The effect was more than a little unnerving, but Eliot determinedly evaded it. "So, way to back me up in there," he said.

The insightful look vanished and Parker cocked her head, genuinely confused.

"Back in the bar," he said, "'Parker made me,'" he indicated himself, "'No I didn't.'?" he pointed to her. "C'mon!" One hand went up in a gesture of frustration while the other one kept on driving.

Parker blinked. "But I didn't make you." she said blankly.

"'Course not." He returned.

"So why should I…"

"Ta back my play!" he growled, "Cover for me, ya know!"

Parker was still trying to wrap her mind around the social context of this and found the nearest corollary: "Like it's a tiny con?" she asked brightly.

"Sure," Eliot gave her a sideways look, "yeah, a tiny con."

"But why are we conning Hardison?" she queried.

Eliot wasn't quite sure how to put it. "So he doesn't, y'know…get the wrong impression." He shrugged.

Parker frowned, again deep in thought. "The wrong impression…" The hugging and subsequent near-dismemberment played through her memory.

"The impression…that you _like_ him?" Several thoughts about cons and right and wrong impressions connected in her brain all at the same moment. "_Do_ you like him!?" She exclaimed with triumphant enthusiasm and just a little bit of a perverse smile.

"Wha— NO!" The horror, disbelief, and revulsion that were trying to crowd onto Eliot's face all at once made him look positively comical.

"Then why?" asked Parker, taking advantage of the fact that she'd managed to render the hitter momentarily speechless. "Why tell him you won't help him, and then go ahead and help him?" She was getting tired of not understanding.

"Why?!" snarled Eliot when he had finished choking on his own disgust. Frowning furiously at the road he muttered, "I'll tell ya why…" He pulled the truck over to the curb, stopped, and then turned to Parker with an alarmingly severe look on his features.

"The man was over-playing the grift with a dangerous crew. They coulda killed him, Parker. Not "Game Over" try-again-next-time dead: real brain-matter-all-over-the-basement-floor dead. He wasn't takin' it seriously, and I couldn't stay close enough ta keep him protected."

This was sounding to Parker suspiciously like Eliot's conversation with the 'cable guy' earlier that day…

"I figured if he knew I wasn't gonna bail him out, he might play it safe, ya know, take it back a notch."

"But…" started Parker.

"I know!" he threw his hands up at the futility, "Instead he takes it to a new level of dumb-ass!"

"Or…" said Parker, a little hesitantly, as she was still working out the idea, "He just knew you would come for him anyway."

Eliot didn't answer but fixed her with a scornful frown.

"Come on Eliot," she said with an attempted smile that soon faltered and died in the face of his glare. "Even I know it—you would come for any of us."

Eliot's expression looked like it was about to lose some of its ire so he turned back to frown at the steering wheel instead.

"Right?" she asked.

He just grunted.

"It's what you—"

"—what I do," he finished. "Fine, you're right: protecting you guys is what I do." He ran fingers through his hair thoughtfully before looking at her again.

"So why d' y'all make it so damn _hard_ sometimes?" he asked.

Parker nearly answered and then suddenly recognized it as a rhetorical question. After a moment's more thought, it occurred to her that this also constituted an admission of caring, maybe of weakness; in short- a secret! Something between friends!

She grinned, "You know, maybe Hardison was right. Maybe you _do_ need a hug." She came at him with considerably more grace than Hardison had, but met with no more success.

"Parker! Don't you… Get away from…!" With one hand still fending her off, he used the other to pull the truck back into traffic. "Parker, I'm driving! What's Nate's rule on the road?!"

She sat down in her seat and gave her feet a sour look. "'Don't mess with the driver.'" she recited.

"There ya go. Now just…stay over there."

Her blond hair flashed as her head snapped around to look at him again. "Nate's not here," she challenged.

He didn't look at her but speedily put an arm up to block, "Still counts!" was his counter.

She sighed, a small pout on her face.

Eliot was trying to suppress a mean grin.

"You let _Hardison_ hug you..." came her sneak attack.

The grin disappeared. "I did not _let_ Hardison hug me!" He said, turning toward her accusingly. "Punk's lucky he still has two arms!"

She attempted mock sigh, something she was learning from Sophie and had yet to quite master. It still succeeded in being irritating. "I guess you really _do_ like him…"

"How can you…?" He was positively twitching with anger, "That _geek,_" he said the word like it was an expletive, "annoys the heck out of me."

Parker sat up smugly, "Sophie says people who are defensive have something to hide."

"I ain't _hidin'_ anything! I don't like men, and I _really_ don't like Hardison!"

"Juuuust digging yourself deeper."

"Parker, ju—do you wanna walk home, cause you're gettin' ta that point pretty quick."

"You _could_ just let me hug you."

"Dammit Parker, we're not huggin'!"

"Wow, I didn't know you felt this way about women…"

"That's it. I don't have ta sit here and take this!"

The rest of the ride progressed in much the same manner and yet somehow, in less than ten minutes they pulled up to her apartment building--together, in the same vehicle, more or less intact.

"'Night Parker," said Eliot, as she got out.

"Thanks Eliot," Parker answered. It was thanks for the ride, and maybe thanks for a whole lot more.

"No problem," he said, almost as if he had gotten the message. He smiled ruefully as he drove away. _A bit off, that one._ He couldn't help thinking. But then, also, undeniably--family. And it was awfully good to be with family.

She grinned as she made her way up to her top-floor apartment. He was her friend; she was almost sure of it. In any case it was good fun--awfully good fun—getting a ride home with Eliot.


End file.
